Along this Road We Take, My Brothers
by apokfan
Summary: AU to both shows; Supernatural/Smallville crossover. Out in the country side of South Dakota, Clark is traveling alone. John and his boys are just passing by on their way to meet Bobby up in Sioux Falls.
1. Pilot

_Originally this story was called "Heroes of Sorts". It was supposed to be a general story about the lives of Clark Kent, John Winchester and his boys and how those lives are entwined through a thing called destiny. It still very much is that with a different title, but I wanted to add a more action-adventure kind of plot. This story will primarily be in John Winchester's POV. I'm sorry for leaving people hanging but when I came back to it after a few months, I decided this was one of my better ideas and leaving it like this...is just unsatisfying. I am going to be re-watching Smallville in the meantime. Thank you to everyone that reviewed/favorited/alerted the previous story. I can't promise fast updates but since I'm motivated again, rest assured, there **will** be more._

_Also just to let you guys know I will be taking down "Heroes of Sorts" sometime in the next few days._

**Along this Road We Take, My Brothers**

Synopsis**: AU to both shows; SPN x SV. Out in the country side of South Dakota, Clark is traveling alone. John and his boys are just passing by on their way to meet Bobby up in Sioux Falls. 16 years since Mary died and John is still struggling on the definition of "fatherhood". Sam and Dean had always thought family only revolved around their father and each other but soon learn that even a stranger can become a brother and in dark times, they may all discover how far a family's love goes to save one of its own. **

**.**

1. "PILOT"

**SOUTH DAKOTA**

**16 years later**

JOHN

Sometimes John felt like he blinked once and missed his sons growing up. Sammy wasn't…Sammy anymore, he was sixteen now, a pain in the ass teenager with his own wants and needs and demands. John remembered when Sam was a wailing baby crawling in seedy motels or fast asleep in a four year old Dean's arms in the backseat of the Impala. He heard a grunt from the back that sounded suspiciously like Sam. John looked up in the rearview mirror. He could see Dean hiding his snicker into a fist, and Sam glowered from the other side of the car. He rubbed his arm before reaching over to punch his brother hard in his arm in retaliation for whatever the hell Dean did this time. Dean let out a hissed, "Ow, brat."

John's lips twitched up in a grin at his sons' antics. It was early morning in the middle of August of '99. The boys didn't look too tired because John kept some weird hours, the hunt for Mary's killer taking him all over the country. Sam hated it while Dean loved it. John wished Sam was more like his brother and took in the hunting life with a graceful embrace, but at the same time he was relieved that Sam _wanted_ normal. Normal was safe while hunting was dangerous, a dreadful life that only few people took, and only when they had good reason. Like John's reason.

Still what Sam wanted, John couldn't give. Neither could Dean. As long as Mary's killer was running rampant, John feared no one was safe, at least either of his sons. He wished he could make Sam understand that. But lately Sam stopped going to John for answers. He went to Dean. For another moment, John watched his sons tousle in the backseat. 'They're more like children in adult bodies,' John thought to himself as Dean made to pinch Sam's arm, Sam just slapped away his attempt before settling in his corner with the novel in his lap he'd been trying to finish for a week.

"Leave me alone, Dean, I'm trying to read," Sam said through clenched teeth.

John's other son smirked in triumph but left Sam alone for the few hours on the road. It must have been a new record, John decided as he pulled the Impala up to a fast food joint that served both breakfast and lunch at odd hours. The three Winchesters piled out of the car and the boys raced each other to the door. John took his time walking behind them. He sometimes liked to pretend this road trip wasn't a hunt for Mary's murderer that may or may not exist out there causing more terror in its wake, but instead really was just a road trip with his boys. He wasn't sure the destination just yet, and every so often it'd change.

_One summer when Sam was only seven and Dean was eleven, John told them they were all taking a camping trip together. He remembered the large grin on Sammy's face when he said it, the excited chatter he and Dean had been witness to for several hours on the road. _

_Dean's face, however, told John his elder son knew the cold hard truth. It said, 'Why don't you just say the truth for once, dad?' John did camp out that night instead of pulling into a cheap motel. Dean had been pleasantly surprised. Sam demanded marshmallows and smores like any good seven year old. It was the most fun John had since the days Mary had been alive. That night it really was just a father camping out in the wilderness with his sons._

_The next day was a completely different story. They were back on the road hunting things that went bump in the night, and living in cheap, seedy motels. The case was a regular salt and burn in a backwater town in Texas. Dean was supposed to stay with Sammy. John had already put down the necessary protection to ward off evil spirits and other supernatural creatures. When John got back a few days later, red eyed from staying up all night to comfort the couple, hair in disarray from being thrown into a wall by the spirit, he'd come back to a frightened, wide eyed Dean and a sleeping Sam. Dean clutched in his hands the motel lamp he'd picked up from the bedside table. John was left speechless until he took a good look down himself and found the salt line in front of the door ruined._

"_I…I didn't know," Dean stuttered as he traced John's gaze. "I didn't know, dad."_

_John's heart sank when he looked back up at his son. He realized it was inevitable that his sons would find out, he just didn't want it to happen like this. At only age eleven, Dean was introduced to the dismal life of a hunter. John put more pressure on his eldest and it paid off. Dean made an incredible hunter. Sometimes John would think, 'He's a natural, maybe better than me,' with a start. It was true. John noticed Dean was quick on his feet, quick with decisions that would take John a beat later to make. It was also a sad realization because a hunter's life wasn't glamorous. John lived on lies and scams. They often never got thanked and more times accused for murders they never committed and the ones they did, well…it wasn't exactly of the human variety._

_When Dean knew the truth behind their moves and John's absence, Dean's hero worship seemed to take off ten fold. Dean wanted to join on John's hunts but John would rarely take him. He'd kneel to be on Dean's level and say sternly, "Now, Dean, your job is really important. You and I both know that Sammy needs you here. You have to protect him, remember?" Dean leaned back and nodded, obedient to a letter. John patted his son's head and went out. That week he hunted down a werewolf loose in Mississippi._

_Dean was twelve when he got his own gun, John's old one he used to use when he first started hunting. He was thirteen when John took him on his first salt and burn. At the end of the year, Sammy witnessed his own supernatural encounter and thus, was sucked into this odd, dismal world as well. _

Now Sam was sixteen and Dean was twenty and John was getting tired. Sometimes it felt like a wild goose chase, even Mary in John's dreams whom used to smile down at her husband and say, "Don't worry, John. You'll get it. I know you will," seemed to have given up hope in John. Whenever he dreamed of her, she'd sigh and lean back into him like she was trying to melt into him–something alive-Mary used to do. She'd then say, "How're the boys holding up, John?" instead of talking about the hunt. The gentle tone dream-Mary used seemed to accuse John of something he realized he should know but didn't. The faint sadness in Mary's eyes told him she thought the same. The dream would end before John could think to demand what Mary knew that John himself didn't.

_It was when Sammy was fourteen and Dean was eighteen, both having already been on their first hunt, that John awoke from a vivid dream of his dead wife in cold sweat and a dreaded feeling in his gut. Reality crashed all around him. He could never take back what happened to Dean. His eldest son loved the hunting life. It was as much a part of him as it was John. But Sam…_

_Sam was only fourteen. He still had a choice. He could still pick normal if John hung out the choices for him. John sat up in an empty motel room in a town in Washington. He looked glumly at the phone on the other side of the room. Even though his sons weren't within an arm's reach, he knew they were just a phone call away. It'd only take two or three hours to drive back in the Impala. The right thing to do was to give his sons an out. John took a deep breath and made one of the hardest decisions in his life. He glanced at the alarm clock and fell back to sleep. Dream-Mary gave him a disappointed look and said nothing until she disappeared and John was back to running after the phantom of her killer._

_When he woke sometime in the afternoon, John dug up another grave and salted and burned the corpse. He had lunch at the local fast food joint and politely informed the woman her son was put to rest, he accepted her gracious dinner invite and caught a couple hours of restless sleep. In the morning he drove back to his sons and said nothing about his late night revelation. He didn't give either an out. Instead John pulled his sons deeper in the heart of the supernatural world. Who was dream-Mary kidding? The Winchesters weren't meant for normal._

"Dad. Hey, Dad. One sec, ma'am. He'll have some iced water and as for me, I'll take a glass of water with no ice. What about you, doofus?" John jerked back to reality at the sound of Dean's half amused voice. "Oh hey, Dad, I hope you don't mind I ordered for you."

John blinked, feeling like he'd just awoken from a surreal dream. The three men were situated in a booth in the corner of the restaurant, John on one side and both Dean and Sammy on the other. He noticed Sam's face pressed in his book and seemed to not have heard Dean's question until Dean impatiently snapped his fingers in his face. Sam jerked back and hit his head against the booth chair. "Ow! Come on, Dean," Sam complained loudly as he rubbed the back of his head, glaring at his brother over the top of the book. Dean just smirked. "What do you want now?" Sam hissed.

Dean jerked his head to the amused waitress hovering by their table with a small clipboard. Sam jerked his head up, finally noticing the waitress that was waiting patiently to take Sam's order. John's youngest son turned a good shade of red and ducked his head with a mumbled, "Water, please. No ice." The waitress nodded and wrote down the order before heading to the back.

After the waitress came back with their drinks ten minutes later, they ordered their meals without incident. When Sam decided to finally set aside his book, John looked at his boys gravely and the atmosphere at the table almost instantly changed. For the next hour and a half, John got down to business and told them they were hunting a Djinn in the country side of South Dakota. It was the first either sons heard of it and John quickly went about an explanation on what it was and what exactly it did.

"There are things that can grant wishes?" Dean asked skeptically, lowering his voice in case people around them heard him. John shared Dean's skepticism. Sure there were a lot of powerful things that lived in this world, but something that granted wishes sounded like it ought to be kept in fairy tales with genies in magical lamps. But it was what it was. Although John personally never seen a Djinn before he knew a lot of folks around the world believed something like this could exist. John had researched ahead of time and from what his old hunting friend, Bobby, told him Djinns were as real as deadly and he needed a pair of ready hands to take the thing down.

Well…more than a pair of hands really. He knew after he ended the call with Bobby last night that Dean would want on the case and just the right nudges to his other son, he knew Sam would be right behind them, maybe begrudgingly but a Winchester was a hunter by blood. That was what John learned in the past few years. It wouldn't have mattered if John gave Sam an out. Once the supernatural found you, it sunk its teeth and claws into you, never letting you go. It'd be inevitable for Sam to go right back to hunting after a few years of white picket fences and peaceful sunshine and a normal family and school and friends. It only took one little push, maybe a restless spirit or a black dog and it'd be back to traveling on fast food and coffee and cheap motels and credit card scams, singing along to AC/DC or some other rock band with a restless brother that teased you and a driven father that didn't know the meaning of staying in one town long enough to put the faces of your peers to names down a list that didn't matter because you'd be long gone before you could even think of making friends.

John wasn't proud of dragging his sons into the hunter's life. He knew when he explained the situation to Bobby; he'd be just as disapproving. John sucked in a shaky breath once they were back on the road. He turned the radio up and Dean whooped in approval when AC/DC blasted out of it just as Sam groaned and tried to once again hide behind his book. Dean sang along to the crazy vocals of the song as John drove them to Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

The last time Bobby saw Sam and Dean, Sam had been five, Dean nine. They had both been innocent of the supernatural and John remembered how hard it was to tiptoe around the topic with his kids just a room away. Bobby had been content to watching a football game while John fumbled around the subject of Mary and what he thought he knew of Mary's killer, which back then had been near nada. It was still near nada, with one huge difference. Eleven years ago, John had been full of righteous fury and hope in finding her murderer, whole heartedly believing her murderer was not indeed human. Now he was just getting tired. Sixteen years of not a single lead.

The only thing he really ever had was watching his wife burn on the ceiling of their nursery in a mysterious fire that sprang out of nowhere. When he told it to Bobby, the hunter had agreed that it was strange and most likely a supernatural thing. Beyond that, John had no idea what he was dealing with. It could be a number of things really, which was why John took every case he could get his hands on, hoping to get lucky and stumble upon something that could lead to his answer. He never told this to Dean or Sam. Dean's hero worship told him that John took cases because that was what heroes did; they hunted evil and _saved_ people. In reality, John felt anything but a hero. He wanted more than to save lives. He wanted revenge for Mary, justice.

If the killer had been human, John suspected with a slight pang in his chest, he'd hunt him down as well. Faced with the hard truth, John tightened his knuckles around the steering wheel until they were chalk, white. Only when his fingers felt ready to break off sometime in the half way to Sioux Falls did John loosen his grip, concentrating only on the road, his sons' light snores coming from the back and _Highway to Hell_ that was playing on loop to its heart's content.

John would have made it to Sioux Falls by nightfall as originally planned, but when you're a Winchester, nothing ever goes as planned. As it happened, on precisely 7:46 pm on a hot August night of '99 on the lonely countryside of South Dakota, a little ways from Sioux Falls, John Winchester picked up a stray.

**ALONG THE ROAD A FEW MILES DOWN**

CLARK

Clark walked barefoot on the edge of the road. He tried not to look down at himself because then he would see the dirt on his shirt and mud caked on his pants. He didn't have a bag with him and or any money in pockets. When he tucked his hands in the front pockets of his pants Clark came out with lint and more dirt. He wasn't sure where he even was, all he knew was that he didn't recognize this place when he woke up this morning. It felt like he'd been sleeping for ages and he'd only just woken up.

For the past quarter of an hour, Clark had been walking up and down the same stretch of road hoping to hitch a ride to the nearest town. After another five minutes of pacing, Clark was ready to give up. Then headlights beamed in the darkness like a beacon of salvation. Feeling a frantic panic bubble in his chest, Clark waved his hands out hoping the person was kind enough to stop.

**THE IMPALA**

JOHN

If John didn't pay close attention to the road, he wouldn't have seen the small figure moving erratically up and down along the road. When he pulled the Impala up closer he saw that it was a boy waving his hands around like a maniac trying to get John's attention. The boy's hair was a dark brown, almost black, disheveled like he'd just gotten out of bed and staggered out to the road without bothering to comb it. His eyes were a startling blue, his skin pale and his white tee had dirt and mud staining it while his jeans hung loose with holes. He was missing shoes and socks and John could see the boy's toes curl into the dirt.

All in all, the boy spelled trouble with a capital 'T' and John wondered if he should leave now. Where the Winchesters were headed, they didn't need more trouble if they could help it. As if sensing John's inner thoughts, the boy gave a startled jolt forward and was at the window of the front passenger's seat before John knew what was happening. John still wasn't sure why he did it, maybe it had been the kid's pleading blue eyes or the way his hands seemed to tremble as he clutched onto the door, whatever it was, John had rolled down the window before he could think straight.

"Are you…going to town?" the kid had asked, his eyes darting around nervously, trying to peer into the back to see John's slumbering sons.

Feeling suddenly protective of his sons from a stranger's prying eyes, John tried to veer his attention back to him as he cleared his throat pointedly. The kid looked blushed at getting caught but John had his attention back at least. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he weighed his options. He couldn't possibly leave the boy in the middle of nowhere ready to be snatched by some child molester or killer now that he knew the boy was here. John couldn't have that on his conscious. For a moment he berated himself for deciding to stop. Now he was responsible for a kid and that would surely delay getting to Bobby's.

Sioux Falls wasn't for another two hours.

John finally said, "Yeah, I am. Me and my boys, we're headed to Sioux Falls. Familiar with the name, kid?"

The kid shook his head and bit his lip in a nervous gesture, probably scared John would decide to leave him stranded here. "No, sir." He looked ready to say more but something about John's looks made him think better of it.

John raised an eyebrow when the boy didn't say anything else or do anything, just stood there looking as lost as a runaway John could imagine. John finally gave in when the kid didn't budge. He gestured for the boy to get in. "Come on, kid. Hop in. We don't have all night."

The kid looked at John in surprise, his blue eyes huge on his face and lips parted in a little 'o' that would have amused John any other time but now all he wanted to do was be on his way to Bobby's and listening to AC/DC, and watching his sons grow up some more (Dean would no doubt surpass John as a hunter some day in the near future, and maybe when all was said and done, Sam could go and have a normal apple pie life far away from the supernatural like he planned since childhood) and eventually, he wanted to catch Mary's killer and make it pay for not only ruining his life but the lives of his sons as well.

The kid still seemed wary of John but obediently opened the door and climbed into the Impala. He shut the door noiselessly and fumbled for his seatbelt. John would like to say that the kid was bright but then the kid did hop into the car of a stranger that could have very well been a psycho with delusions of killing people. He turned the Impala on after the kid got situated well enough and incidentally _Highway to Hell_ was still playing. He pulled the car back onto the main road and pretended to listen to it though what he really heard was the pounding of his heart inside his chest. John gripped the steering wheel and drove to Sioux Falls where Bobby and a Djinn resided. The Impala's wheels squealed heavily against the road.


	2. Bobby

**Along this Road We Take, My Brothers**

Chapter **warning**: MULTI POV Shifts

**.**

2. "BOBBY"

**CLARK**

Clark sat on the edge of the seat. He could feel the tremor of old '80s rock flow from the radio to envelope the whole car. He tried to keep his breathing under control–in, out, in, out–but truth be told, Clark was scared. Suddenly the decision he made to get in a car full of strangers weighed heavily in his mind. His fingers tapped idly in rhythm with the music on the window as he stared out into the dark clouds hiding away the sunset. His heart ached.

Suddenly Clark could see a man's friendly face and a woman's warm embrace. He remembered his parents and Smallville and Kansas. He could see the barn out in the fields near their house. He could see the bright eyes of Chloe Sullivan, his best friend. Suddenly Clark felt home sick. He was tossed in a world he didn't know, with people he didn't know. Clark clenched his hands as the song ended and gave way to another.

"So…what's your name, kid?"

Startled Clark looked toward the man in the driver's seat. The man didn't say anything since he picked Clark up so it came as a surprise when he heard the low, gruff voice. It was unlike his own dad's and that thought alone was enough to make Clark's heart ache worse. He sat silently listening to his heart beat. The man sighed beside him when he realized Clark wasn't going to answer. Clark almost thought he would give up.

"Well I'm John. My sons sleeping in the back are Dean and Sam," he offered.

Clark still didn't offer his name. They passed a sign that said they were coming closer to their destination, the only real sign of civilization Clark could see. The sun had already set what felt like ages ago. Clark counted the trees silently in his head to pass time. John had gone silent an hour ago, focusing intensely on the road.

Another hour passed and the boys in the back, Dean and Sam, started to slowly rouse. Clark wasn't sure who was who but if they were like their father, he'd find out soon enough. There was a faint yawn and Clark peered into the mirror to see someone stretch his hands.

"Get off me, Dean," a voice from the back said.

"Quit whining, ow, ow," someone else grunted, "okay, okay. I'm trying. Stop that–I said I'm trying, dammit."

Sounds like a scuffle ensued. "Ouch! Did you have to pinch me?"

Dean sniggered. "Well watch your elbows next time."

"Boys," John warned from the front but it was said in a light tone, a teasing tone.

Clark's curiosity finally got the better of him and shamelessly, he turned his head to peer into the darkness behind him. The back seemed to fall silent as Clark tried to make out the dark silhouettes sitting in the back. A pair of green eyes stared out at him. Dean coughed into his fist.

"Uh, dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Uh, you know you got a, uh, kid in your car?"

"Yeah. Actually I got two boys in the back. What of it?" John's face was alight with amusement at his son's frustration.

"No, no–I mean you got a kid in the front, dad."

Dean's gaze seemed to challenge Clark. Clark blinked and turned away; feeling stupidly small under the heat of Dean's stare, like an insect out on display ready to be dissected. John didn't seem to notice the tension in the car or if he did he chose to ignore it. He hummed happily under his breath and turned the radio down.

"Sharp eyes there, kiddo," John joked easily.

There was a groan. Clark pictured a pout on Dean's face. Sometimes his own dad joked around too much when Clark was trying to be serious too, so he knew how he felt. "Dad, I'm being serious. What's this kid doing in _your_ car?"

"Yeah, since when did you start to pick up _strays_, dad?" Sam demanded, sitting up straighter in the back.

Clark felt tension roil in the air. Something in Sam's voice put him on edge.

"Will you boys just calm down? I'll explain everything at Bobby's."

Silence descended quickly after that statement and Clark wondered if that was a good sign or bad sign. Peering down at his jeans, Clark could see the holes stretching the material. If he ever got back home, he vowed to never complain whenever his mom said they needed to go shopping for more clothes. Idly he tapped his fingers in his lap.

**JOHN**

John pulled up to a gas station a mile up. He went out to fill the gas then headed inside to pay. Fifteen minutes later, Sam came up behind him with a grim expression on his young face. It made him older than he really was, and John realized with a start, he barely ever saw Sam look genuinely happy now. He sighed when Sam followed him to the men's room. Leaning against the door, John turned around to finally confront his son.

"What is it, Sam?" he asked tiredly. He peered behind Sam to the rest of the store. No sign of Dean. "And where's your brother?"

"Back at the car," Sam answered easily. 'With the kid,' John supplied in his head. He nodded and Sam continued, "I want to know, dad, why are we taking him to Bobby's with us?" Sam was looking at him with earnest eyes.

John sighed and swept his hand through his hair. "We're not," he said honestly.

Sam blinked. "What?" Obviously it was an answer he hadn't expected. For a moment Sam looked lost, like he thought as far as confronting John on the matter that had been troubling through the whole ride but he hadn't planned anything beyond that point.

"We're not taking him with us," John repeated. "What we do, it's too dangerous for a civilian. I was planning on dropping him off at the nearest motel or something," he confessed.

"A motel?" Sam said incredulously.

John shrugged. "Some place with adults. Maybe a hospital then."

"Are you even listening to yourself right now?" Sam asked looking dead serious to which John frowned, because he was being serious. Sam peered over his shoulder and John followed his gaze to the dark shape of the Impala parked right outside. It suddenly dawned on John that maybe his son wasn't here to try to talk sense in John. When Sam looked back at his dad, John could see the anxiety in his son and he knew without a doubt what Sam was really here for.

"Sam…"

"I don't think he's from around here," Sam suddenly blurted.

"What?"

"I…don't think he's from this state," Sam said.

John studied his son's face but there was nothing but honesty there. "What makes you think that?" he asked.

"He told us," Sam admitted. "Clark told us back in the car."

**THE IMPALA**

DEAN

"Kansas, huh? You're kind of far from home, you know," Dean said casually.

Clark shrugged, avoiding Dean's gaze by staring out the window. It was beginning to drizzle outside now. Dean wished he could figure this kid out but so far all of Dean's attempts to get him to open up had been unsuccessful. He leaned his head against the seat and listened to the rain tap on top of the Impala.

"You're not very talkative, are you?" Dean muttered.

A moment later John and Sam stepped out of the convenience store and Dean flung the back door open for his brother. "Finally! What took you guys, Sammy? I thought I was gonna die of boredom over here! Next time you're totally doing the babysitting."

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean's melodramatic confession. He flung a plastic bag full of Doritos and other snacks at his brother. Dean caught it with ease, peering into it curiously. A moment later, Dean's head popped up and he asked, "Where's the pie? Why do you guys always forget the damn pie?"

"Sorry, Champ. They didn't sell any here," John said as he got in and started the car.

Sam shrugged looking completely unapologetic as he shut the door. "Tough luck, Dean. Guess you'll just have to deal with it."

"I always have to deal with it and quit calling me that. I'm not a 'lil kid anymore," Dean grumbled, stuffing the bag under the seat.

John grinned and waggled his brows as he pulled the car from the gas station. "Tough, sport. I can call you whatever I want just the same as I can call your brother Sammy. Right, Sammy?"

Dean sniggered at his brother's growl. "No. It's _Sam_, dad."

"Dude, come on. Just admit you like being called that. Sammy."

"Shut up, jerk."

"Whatever, bitch."

"Boys."

The Impala was soon filled with laughter.

**JOHN**

John still wasn't sure what to do with Clark. They were coming closer and closer to Sioux Falls now, maybe a quarter of an hour. Getting to Bobby's would just take a little over an hour if John didn't stop anywhere. Sam's confession from earlier was still ringing in his head when he pulled to a stop at a red light. He glanced over to see his son staring at him waiting for the final verdict.

He cleared his throat a little and that resulted in three pairs of curious eyes on him. "I thought over what you said earlier, Sam," he said.

Sam's curious gaze turned slightly anxious. "And?"

"And," John said, "I think it might be best if Bobby looked into this." It was the truth. Once Sam told him everything Clark had confessed, John felt uneasiness settle in the pit of his stomach. He turned his attention to Clark. "Sam told me you said you just woke up in the middle of the road with no idea how you got there?" At Clark's nod, John prompted, "Can you tell me exactly what it felt like when you woke up?"

Clark looked baffled for a second at the odd question but shrugged and said, "I don't really know. It was a really weird feeling. It felt kinda like I was asleep for weeks or something. I think. I don't know. I'm sorry."

Something crawled inside John at the confession. Something about what Clark described seemed _wrong_. Warning bells in the back of his head went off but John shrugged it off almost immediately, focusing on driving them all to Bobby's in one piece. If anyone could figure all this stuff out it was Bobby Singer. He was surely a better hunter than John, and at least ten times more knowledgeable.

"Well okay then," John said as they sped pass a couple cars and entered Sioux Falls. "We'll head to Bobby Singer's place and figure this all out." He gave a meaningful glance at his boys in the mirror, the one that silently conveyed for them not to mention anything about the hunt. They both nodded and John turned the radio back on as they headed to Bobby's Salvage Yard.

**SINGER SALVAGE YARD**

**THE IMPALA**

SAM

They pulled up at the salvage yard and were greeted by a large man in a baseball cap. Sam vaguely remembered him as Bobby Singer, a friend and hunter of dad's. John parked the Impala near a pile of old car parts. He turned the engine off and climbed out, walking into Singer's embrace. They looked like two best friends that haven't seen each other in ages. Sam stood awkwardly beside his brother and shared a knowing look. The two brothers didn't get a chance to meet many of John's friends–mostly hunters. It felt almost like a surreal dream to see his dad looking even remotely happy as he patted Singer on the back.

Sam was soon pulled back into reality when he heard the door to the front of the Impala close behind him and Clark came out to stand just as awkwardly a few feet away from the reunion, looking much more of an outsider than Sam felt. He rocked back on his heels and Sam could hear him take in a sharp breath. Clark looked almost pained as he watched the older men. With a pang of guilt, Sam wondered if Clark was remembering something like a person from his past, maybe his parents. Sam never really let himself think about what Clark's past might have been like.

Before he could think of something to say to the kid, Dean slung his arm around him and said, "You know this place may look boring but inside, I'm telling you man, it's pretty cool. Uncle Bobby's even got a panic room. Ever been in one?"

Clark shook his head. "No I've never been in one. I never even heard of it."

"Oh you're gonna love it. It's basically a bunker. You know, like a place where people gather incase something bad happens like a hurricane or something," Dean said as he dragged Clark to the house.

Sam sighed and jogged to catch up with them, deciding it would probably be better to stick with his brother and Clark incase Dean decided to try something stupid as usual. "Why are you showing him the panic room when Uncle Bobby has a more interesting collection of books?"

Dean paused in his rant to look incredulously back at Sam. "Books? Really, Sammy? Only you would think a bunch of old, dusty books are interesting." He then went back to eagerly talking about the history behind the panic room.

Sam scowled at his brother. "It's Sam, not Sammy and I don't think books are interesting, I think _Bobby's_ books are interesting."

"Whatever," Dean said.

Annoyed, Sam turned to march to the room where he knew Bobby kept his extensive collection. If Dean thought he was too cool for Sam then so be it. He sat down and busied himself with a large red book by the door. It was one of Sam's favorites by far.

**OUTSIDE**

JOHN

John tried not to bite the inside of his cheeks in anticipation at hearing what his friend had to say to shed light on this whole bizarre situation. He could see Bobby Singer's head try to wrap around what John just told him about the Clark kid. The man's brows were furrowed and his forehead was creased. He looked back at John thoughtfully. After a moment, Bobby finally said, "I think we might have to head into the study. I could swear that all sounds familiar and not in the good way, Winchester," he added grimly at John's suddenly hopeful face.

John sighed and admitted, "I should've guessed. Anything to do with the supernatural is never good."

Bobby glanced at him. "And how do you know it's got anything to do with something supernatural?"

John gave a startled glance. "It's not?" he asked incredulously as they headed inside the house.

Bobby lapsed into silence, then sighed with a weary shake of his head. "Unfortunately I think it does," he admitted quietly.

John shook his head. "Yeah. My gut told me as much. What do you think it could be?"

"A number of things maybe," Bobby answered as they neared the study. "Something with serious mojo anyway."

"It sounded like he was possessed," John confessed. "Do you think…?"

Bobby shrugged. "He said he woke up from what felt like weeks' worth of sleep. I don't really know anything else that can do something like that. You also said he's from Kansas?"

John nodded and blew out a breath. "At least that's what he told us. Kansas is a state over, Bobby."

"I know, John," Bobby said grimly. They reached the study, startled to find Sam already there. He looked up with a nod and went back to reading.

"Hey, kiddo," John greeted.

"Hey, dad," Sam answered absently as he flipped through the pages. "Hey, Uncle Bobby."

"Sam," Bobby acknowledged as he went to the back of the room to pull out a couple books. He came back to John and nudged him to follow. "Come on, we'll take this to the kitchen." Over his shoulder he said, "Have fun with the books, Sam."

"Will do!"

They stuck to the kitchen until the boys all came out of their hiding places when dinner called. Bobby fed them some leftover lasagna and John tried to savor every minute of the conversation. It had been odd and left a bad taste in John's mouth. Bobby determined that it sounded an awful lot like Clark had been possessed by something. They weren't completely positive if it was a demon just yet until something caught John's eye at dinner.

He suddenly leaned over and grabbed a startled Clark's arm. Clark's wide blue eyes stared up at him just as both Dean and Sam stood up, looking poised for a fight, incase John had secretly been taken over by a demon himself when they weren't watching. Bobby didn't rise to stop John nor help him; instead his gaze seemed to have fallen on the same thing that drew John's.

"Christo," Dean murmured at the same time Sam demanded, "What's going on?"

John ignored them both and reached for Clark's tee shirt. He dabbed two fingers in the fabric. When he showed everyone at the table his suddenly sulfur covered fingers, everything fell silent.


End file.
